The feat is remarkable, surely.
Opening upward,
And pouring a kind of holiness into the sky.
Some largest breath from a brief human gasp.
But is that what the people see
As they scuttle into the cavern shadows,
Arms warm around their sides,
And imagine what it could be like,
Up,
Up there?
Sitting close, very close to the fire,
Eyes sealed to make the colors dance,
Can they see him in that distance,
The small, bedeviled straggler, contending with the wind,
Numb fingers on the ropes,
Blinking ice from frantic lashes?
Can they feel the burn of frosted breath,
As he grapples with a traitor ledge,
Gaining footing
Just in time?
Think of the danger, they mutter through soft breathing.
What could craze a one to such a risk?
And slowly,
Slowly the climber fades,
Tousled hair blowing yellow in the fire.
But as embers flicker into dust,
And heads grow weary with the want of sleep,
He stands silent one moment more,
Head bowed, blowing golden
On the windy peak.
Original from Luisa Cahill in the MassBay Communications Office
